


We Can't Seem To Find The Light Alone

by frozen_delight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Pining Castiel, Pining Sam, Season/Series 08, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2828078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozen_delight/pseuds/frozen_delight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Why are we doing this to each other</i>, Sam wonders.</p>
<p>A bit of a fix-it for the first half of S8 which doesn’t really fix anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can't Seem To Find The Light Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MisplacedLonelyHeartsAd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisplacedLonelyHeartsAd/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】We Can't Seem To Find The Light Alone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653162) by [katze_k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katze_k/pseuds/katze_k)



> Many, many thanks to my fabulous beta **canonisrelative** for all her help, advice and encouragement. All remaining mistakes are mine of course.
> 
> Written for my dear friend **misplaced_ad**. Merry Christmas!

_Why are we doing this to each other_ , Sam wonders, staring bleakly at the beer Dean had set out for him.  
  
Before he walked away, slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
Before Sam told him Sasha Grey did a Soderbergh movie.  
  
Before Sam said, “Welcome back.” To an empty room.  
  
To say that their reunion didn’t go according to plan is an understatement if ever there was one. During the entire drive up to the cabin his mind was blank except for a continuous thrum of _Dean – Dean – Dean_ , so Sam’s not entirely certain what he expected. But definitely not this nightmare.  
  
It just got worse and worse with every second that passed – no, Sam corrects himself when Dean furiously hurls a phone at his chest – it’s still getting worse, no end in sight. The anger, the resentment, the mutual misconceptions keep piling up and poison this moment for both of them. Sam really wishes they could rewind back to the instant where he opened the door to Rufus’s cabin, and the lost look in Dean’s eyes, shimmering there beneath all the hardness, tells him that maybe Dean longs for the same thing.  
  
They’ve had more practice with greeting each other after miraculously returning from the dead than 99.9% of the American population, yet that doesn’t mean they’re particularly good at it. The thing is, you don’t ever get used to this, not even when you’ve cheated Death often enough to know which pizza and fried pickle chips the horseman prefers.  
  
Of course, soon enough there’s Kevin and other big stuff, closing-the-Gates-of-Hell big, and Sam would like to blame how badly Dean handles his confession of not looking for him on all the crappy circumstances that accompany it. But truth is, Dean’s great at handling the big stuff, be it Hell, the Apocalypse, or now Purgatory and the Demon tablet. What he’s struggling with is Sam alone. Sam hurt him, and there’s no taking it back, and no making it better.  
  
Likewise, Sam would love to say it’s solely the need to do right by Kevin that chases him back into the front passenger seat of the Impala and the company of demons. But at least to himself he acknowledges that even if there’d been nothing to set right in the world at large, he still wouldn’t have walked away. Not after he stepped into that cabin and hugged his brother and Dean smelled clean and fresh, like a living, breathing, solid thing, and not just because of the Borax.  
  
It’s only later on the road that he realizes he never said goodbye to Amelia. Only to the dog.  
  
He thinks of texting her, saying he’ll be back in a couple of days… or maybe weeks. In the end, he doesn’t. He tries to convince himself he’s being noble, giving her an honest chance with Don. But here’s the thing: You don’t go back to a life you didn’t even bother taking leave of. You just don’t.  
  
Do you stay with the brother who hates you for not trying to save him, though? That’s the big question.  
  
*  
  
Dean is sitting on the floor of their motel room.  
  
The sight makes Sam uncomfortable. The past few months he had a house, a fucking _house_ , and Dean can’t even bear sitting on a dingy motel bed.  
  
Watching his brother reminisce about Purgatory, full of nervous energy and unfathomable nostalgia, Sam catches himself feeling oddly bereft as he thinks back to the time he spent with Amelia. Maybe it’s Dean’s presence, maybe it’s the guilt, but his mind is playing tricks on him. At the time, he thought he was happy. Hell, he _had_ been happy. Right? He thought they were in a good place. Well-matched. But he can’t quite seem to remember it. Instead, everything about Amelia suddenly reminds him of Dean. Had she really been so snappish? Opinionated? Quick to find fault with him? Maybe that’s Sam’s punishment for not looking for Dean – that the memories of his time alone are now all clouded and obfuscated, unreal and undesirable.  
  
He tells himself the retrospective distortion of his relationship with Amelia into an implausible Lifetime movie is only due to the fact he left to make room for Don. It was a tough choice that Sam has to live with, and now his subconscious is helping him forget and move on. But Sam’s had to make plenty of tough decisions in his life. He knows exactly how hard it is to do the right thing, to throw yourself into Hell to stop the end of the world, or to let your brother die when everything inside you screams _No! No! No! No!_ Therefore, he’s well aware that when you do what you consider to be the right thing and it’s relatively easy for you to make that choice, it’s not about doing the right thing at all.  
  
He doesn’t bother explaining Amelia to Dean. It seems all too pathetic to go and say, _I stayed with this girl. Amelia Richardson. I thought she was fantastic. We moved into a house together. And I don’t really know why_.  
  
 _Sam hit a dog_ , Dean sums up Sam’s past year to Kevin. Because Dean’s a bastard and he’s scared and he doesn’t really want to deal with “the girl”.  
  
However, Sam’s starting to think that maybe his big brother’s scathing euphemism is more apropos than he realizes.  
  
*  
  
Sam wakes up in the middle of the night, his heart racing. The fear that Dean’s return was only a dream chases him out of his bed and before he knows it, he’s standing next to Dean’s bed, listening to him breathe, reaching out to touch him just to be sure –  
  
The next second he’s sent sprawling onto the dirty motel room floor.  
  
“Christ, Sammy, you okay?” Dean asks frantically, suddenly wide awake, as he stumbles out of bed and crouches down next to him. “Did I hurt you?”  
  
Sam laughs weakly, massaging his burning cheek. Good thing Dean doesn’t sleep with a machete under his pillow. “Fantastic reflexes, man. And your right hook is infinitely better than I remembered.”  
  
Dean’s hands hover over his face. “Don’t creep up on my like that, okay?” he says, his voice the gentlest it’s been since his return from Purgatory. It sounds as much like an apology as an admonishment. He stands up, fetches a cold beer from their fridge, sits down against the bedframe next to Sam and presses it to his cheek.  
  
“Thanks,” Sam says and reaches for the bottle, but since Dean doesn’t let it go, Sam ends up squeezing his brother’s hand instead. The only sensible thing would be to drop his hand, but he doesn’t. He’s been starved for Dean for a year, and he’s still starving, and he just wants to have this. Dean doesn’t call him out on it and leaves his hand where it is.  
  
It reminds Sam of the time when he was fifteen and kissed Dean. Mostly it was an accident, and Dean simply laughed and ruffled Sam’s hair. _Has your little man finally woken up, Sammy? High time we find you a girl before you start humping my leg._  
  
It’s dark and more intimate than they’ve been so far. The press of Dean’s fingers provides him with warm, calloused comfort, and although he can’t quite make out Dean’s expression in the shadows, he imagines it’s kind. Maybe Sam should have sat down on the floor with his brother from the start.  
  
“So 360-degree combat, huh?” Sam says, because he’s beginning to understand what it must have been like for Dean, never allowing himself to relax, to let go, always waiting for the next attack. While Sam… hit a dog.  
  
*  
  
Obviously, Dean’s tearing himself up over what happened with Cas, and in general he’s a bit on edge, and uncomfortable with all the ease and luxuries of modern-day life. But otherwise he appears less damaged than when he returned from Hell. Even less damaged than he was before he went to Purgatory.  
  
Sam’s still not sure what happened in the year before Dean killed Dick Roman – but Cas’s betrayal and death messed him up so bad that he wasn’t really Dean any more, that he wasn’t really anything.  
  
If anyone had ever told Sam a time would come where Dean would neither notice nor care that Sam hadn’t slept for five days straight, and where Dean needed a wake-up call in the form of Sam ending up in a locked ward to be pushed into action, Sam wouldn’t have believed it. Probably, Dean, the real Dean who raised Sam and went to Hell for him, wouldn’t have believed it either.  
  
But that’s exactly what happened. And Sam was struggling too badly with Lucifer inside his head to be of any help with whatever crap his big brother was chewing and choking on.  
  
Idly, he wonders if it would have made Cas feel better to know that his loss had managed to break the great Dean Winchester in a way that the deaths of their parents and practically all their friends combined hadn’t managed to. Maybe. Sam always thought the angel had a bit of a crush on his brother. He’s pretty good at spotting that sort of thing. Takes one to know one and all.  
  
Given the choice, Sam infinitely prefers this new – sometimes a little too obsessed and bloodthirsty –fighter type to the broken shell of a man who’d given up fighting entirely. These days, driving around with Dean, killing monsters, having heated staring and snarking matches with the King of Hell, is as much fun as it is nerve-wracking, and Sam recalls once again why he used to do this most of his life, and for the most part willingly.  
  
If only Dean wasn’t so steadily pissed off at Sam they could be having a grand old time.  
  
*  
  
There’s a physicality to Dean that wasn’t there before, and he’s looking ridiculously good in a white shirt. Apparently, you don’t need organic food or regular workout sessions to get back into shape; a year of hacking and slicing your way through Purgatory will do that too.  
  
Sam hastily averts his eyes and starts looking up colleges.  
  
But it’s not like fate has ever let Sam off the hook, so naturally pretty brothers in pretty white shirts are by no means the only thing plaguing him. The hunt for a heart-eating monster leads to Dean casually mentioning incest – of all things! – with a suggestive smirk, sending all of Sam’s blood rushing southwards, only to make it freeze in his veins shortly thereafter when the reckless bastard almost manages to get himself killed.  
  
Suddenly Sam’s _this close_ to hanging up the whole crazy scheme of road-tripping and hunting with his big brother. “Dean, the year that I took off, I had something I’ve never had. A normal life. I mean, I got to see what that felt like. I want that. I had that,” Sam tells him afterwards, clinging to the memories of Amelia like the only shreds of sanity and safety he still knows, and Dean objects, “I think that’s just how you feel right now.” As though Sam were a small child who didn’t know what he wanted.  
  
What’s funniest – and saddest – about this is how Sam believes Dean’s words more than Dean does himself. Because Dean always suspects Sam of leaving, and has never really gotten over Stanford either.  
  
If Dean were thinking straight, he’d realize immediately that Sam’s not going back to college. Hell, Sam just had a whole year to go back to school, if that was what he wanted. But Dean’s never thinking straight where Sam’s concerned. It’s both a curse and a blessing.  
  
*  
  
Dean has started sitting on chairs again. He’s pretty much managed to adapt to life topside – to all but Sam.  
  
Probably, Sam should have just lied, should have told Dean he tried to look for him first. Because no matter how much he might have complained about Sam’s lies in the past, Dean doesn’t appreciate honesty, not when it’s something like this, something he can’t possibly understand. To Dean, Sam’s decision not to go looking for him boils down to one thing only: _Sammy doesn’t love me anymore_. That idea’s so preposterous it hurts.  
  
It’s always been so easy and straightforward for Dean, Sam thinks bitterly. Whenever Dean was saving Sam, usually all he did was hurt himself – and Sam. The irony of which was lost on him entirely. But Dean never almost brought about the collapse of Western civilization trying to save his brother. He never contemplated offing Bobby. Dean was never that obsessed. So of course he doesn’t get that Sam only trusted himself to fix up the Impala.  
  
Sam might not get Purgatory, but Dean definitely doesn’t get Sam. Tragically, Sam doesn’t always get Sam either.  
  
He’s backed himself into a corner and can’t get out. There he sits now and frets, like a scared little boy. Sometimes he pretends he’s just playing hide and seek, like they did when they were kids and Dad was away on a hunting trip. Sometimes he hopes that Dean will drop the game and come looking for him. Even if it means losing.  
  
*  
  
After agreeing to give Kate a chance at becoming some sort of werewolf vegan, Dean decides it’s time for his fiftieth or so burger since Purgatory, and because Sam’s an awesome younger brother, he tags along and only mentions clogged arteries once.  
  
Sam and Dean both take turns at ogling the pretty waitress in the diner and Sam is actually more relieved than jealous to see Dean take such an unmistakable interest in her dainty ass. It’s the first time since Purgatory that Sam’s caught him so much as looking at a member of the opposite sex, probably even since well before then. Sam had already been fearing that picking up and impregnating a nymphomaniac monster only to have the monster offspring of that connection almost kill him put Dean off one-night-stands for good.  
  
Dean kicks his leg under the table. “Don’t try anything,” he says, still firmly convinced that as the older brother he’s holding the Droit du seigneur. He shoots Sam an exaggerated dark look for good measure.  
  
“I wasn’t going to. It’s not like I’m a creepy pedophile trying to get into the pants of a girl who could be my daughter.” Sam grins cheekily, prompting Dean to kick him again. He feels incredibly pleased with himself and the world at large.  
  
Moments like this give him hope they’ll get over this eventually. That they’ll be okay.  
  
Unfortunately, life has other plans.  
  
*  
  
An outsider would probably think that Sam’s the one who’s trying to get away from Dean and have a life that also revolves around other people, while Dean’s the one who clings to him with selfish, single-minded focus. Sometimes Sam thinks so too. But that’s not the truth, not by a long shot. Because the one who really needs other people in his life is Dean, while Sam’s only ever really needed his brother.  
  
Sam won’t lie – most of the time, he’d prefer it if it was just him and Dean. But Dean’s steadily been working to expand their little circle. No matter how many of their family members or friends have been killed, Dean always managed to pick up new friends and make them an integral part of their two-man-family. First there was Cas. Now, apparently, there’s Kevin too.  
  
Sam on the other hand has never been able to connect with anyone else like that. Neither Jess nor Amelia ever knew who he really was, what he’d done, what he _did_ , and loved him for it. He’s only ever had that with Dean – and obviously these days he even sucks at that when it comes to Dean.  
  
At the beginning, Sam was a little jealous of Cas, there’s no denying that. But he’s grown used to him over the years. Even fond of him. He’s sorry that Cas couldn’t escape from Purgatory, and not just because it makes Dean so jittery and upset. Honestly, he misses the guy. In the end Cas was his friend too.  
  
But there’s no way that Benny will become one of Sam’s friends. A vampire? This time Dean’s gone too far.  
  
What’s worse is that Sam can tell Benny’s different. Dean may have been incredibly fond of Cas, but once he was no longer afraid of being pushed back into Hell by the angel, he tended to treat him like an adorable, slightly ridiculous child. Cas was never any serious competition for Sam. Benny is.  
  
He’s the brother Dean always wanted.  
  
*  
  
One night, Sam wakes up drenched in sweat, after dreaming of Benny’s fangs cutting into the soft flesh of Dean’s arm, drawing blood. What terrified him wasn’t the fear of Dean dying at the hands of his supposed friend, but the look of unadulterated enjoyment on his brother’s face.  
  
Unsurprisingly, Dean is awake and sitting at their laptop. “You okay?” he asks, glancing over at Sam.  
  
“Yeah, just a weird dream,” Sam replies, unable to keep his voice even throughout.  
  
Dean’s face softens. “Clowns or midgets?” he asks, smiling in a way Sam has probably not seen him smile for years, not since well before the Apocalypse that never was.  
  
Sam wants to cry, embalm his brother’s expression and keep it forever like a totem. This should feel more disturbing than it does, and that’s enough to sober him up. Deadpan, he returns, “Justin Bieber,” and is rewarded with a sincere laugh and a cool bottle of beer.  
  
For the moment, that’s enough.  
  
*  
  
Sam is running water over his face and trying not to think of how his brother pointed a gun at him. His fingers shake and there’s cold sweat on his forehead.  
  
This isn’t the first time that one of them tried to kill the other. Nor is it the first time either of them laid open all of his resentments and tried to tear the other to shreds. But this time it feels different.  
  
Sam’s pretty sure that he’s always been under the influence of some ghost, spell or other whenever he tried to shoot his brother down, verbally and literally. And he always felt sorry for it afterwards. But he knows that the worst things Dean’s ever thrown at his head happened when Dean wasn’t under the influence of anything. There are many, many things that Dean blames Sam for, most of all not being the Sam he wants him to be, never being the Sam he wants him to be, and no matter how often Sam apologizes and how often they make up, Dean will keep blaming him for what happened with Ruby, for going away to school.  
  
Of course not looking for Dean when he was Purgatory is just another item on that endless list of all the ways in which Sam Winchester let his brother down.  
  
Being the selfish hypocrite he is, Dean mentions that in the same breath as Ruby, that time when Sam was looking for him just a little too desperately.  
  
It doesn’t really matter what he does, Sam guesses, he’ll always let down his brother one way or the other.  
  
Dean’s knocking on the bathroom door, and Sam knows that when he steps outside Dean will say he’s sorry and it was all the coin talking. Sam’s no fool, though. He knows Dean may not want to shoot him without the input of a vicious specter, but he meant everything he said.  
  
Including what he said about Benny. Dean thinks that Benny, _the vampire_ , has been a better brother to him than Sam.  
  
Sam ignores his brother outside and splashes more water into his face. They’ve been through rough patches like this before, times where they had great difficulties forgiving each other and moving on from whatever happened to them. But in the end, they always did. Because of their _deep and abiding love for each other_.  
  
This time, though, Sam isn’t so sure. For he’s not entirely convinced Dean actually wants to move past their differences.  
  
He’s so angry and desperate that he gives Dean an ultimatum: “Move on, or I will.”  
  
In the past that’s always worked well enough for him. This time it hardly pulls a reaction out of his brother, and of course Sam knows exactly who’s to blame for this, which is why he adds, “I just might be that hunter that runs into Benny one day and ices him.”  
  
*  
  
Fortunately, for once life’s kind to Sam and brings Cas back. No one knows how he escaped from Purgatory, and undoubtedly there’s something fishy about it, but for now Sam doesn’t want to look the gift horse in the mouth.  
  
The reunion with one of his oldest friends is enough to push the latest addition to that illustrious circle to the back of Dean’s mind, and Sam’s glad. He’s tired of fighting about Benny. He’s tired of fighting, full stop. Also, Dean’s a lot more relaxed now he has one thing less to feel guilty about.  
  
Unsurprisingly, two hours in Dean’s company are enough to transform Cas’s original stance of _It’s where I belonged_ into _I’m glad to be back_ , and he can’t seem to stop gazing at Dean. Given what Cas looked like when he first popped up in their motel room, Sam assumes Dean must have been equally dirty back in Purgatory, so beholding Dean in all his former glory, clean and fresh, must be a real treat.  
  
Still, Sam can’t help but think, _At least I’m not quite so obvious_. He almost wants to suggest to Cas, _Let’s form a club_ , if only to savor the angel’s confused face.  
  
Sam’s genuine joy to have Cas back is only dampened slightly when the angel suddenly wants to ride shotgun. Now that’s just overkill.  
  
*  
  
Being his weird, dorky self, Cas – hunter in training and third wheel by his own definition – makes Sam look good by comparison, and suddenly he and Dean get on a lot better. It’s giving Sam fresh hope they’ll eventually get over this.  
  
Provided Dean doesn’t make a habit of walking around in crisp white shirts. Because that’s the sweetest torture Sam knows. It’s a good thing that Dean tends to loathe their fed threads.  
  
Clearly, Cas isn’t immune to Dean’s snug white shirt either and thus he valiantly ignores all of Dean’s efforts to call it a night and get rid of him. “I’ll stay here,” he announces cheerfully.  
  
“Oh, okay. Yeah. We’ll have a slumber party, braid Sam’s hair,” Dean replies drily, and Sam can’t keep himself from smiling. He loves his brother so much at this moment, it’s ridiculous.  
  
Cas looks at Dean with a fluttery, frankly adoring expression. “I’ll watch over you.”  
  
For a moment, Sam thinks his brother’s actually going to laugh right into their poor feathered friend’s face. He feels sorry for the angel and vows to give him a couple of pointers regarding subtlety.  
  
However, his sympathy for Cas quickly fades when he comes back from his research on the break-ins and finds Dean and Cas sitting close to each other, talking, their manner so grave and sincere that Sam can only suppose they’re discussing Purgatory. The big topic Dean alludes to daily because he seems to consider there’s no better way to start the day than mixing up a quick, nourishing guilt shake for Sam, but that he never actually talks about. Not to Sam. Probably to Benny, his unshakeable Best Fanged Friend. And of course, now, to Cas.  
  
Sam likes Cas, he reminds himself. But sometimes he can’t help resenting the guy. He was with Dean in Hell. He was with Dean in Purgatory. Sam wasn’t with him either time.  
  
Of course, Sam was in Hell too, spent more time being tortured and roasted downstairs than Dean did, but Cas took away his memories.  
  
Sam has never quite been able to shake the conviction that if only he remembered Hell, he could have Dean.  
  
*  
  
Cas drops out of his hunting apprenticeship, Martin traces a vamp kill back to Benny, and whatever fragile peace Sam and Dean managed to establish between themselves is promptly shattered. One more reason for Sam to want Benny dead – quite apart from the obvious one. The one that’s obvious to all but Dean.  
  
“He has _never_ let me down,” Dean tells them. _Here goes the Purgatory mention of the day_ , Sam thinks tiredly, and hates Benny for inspiring such faith in his brother. While Dean never had trouble believing Sam would go dark side as soon as Sam so much as glanced at him sideways, in the teeth – _in the teeth marks_ , Sam’s brain supplies spitefully – of all proof to the contrary he remains adamant that Benny’s innocent. And despite everything part of Sam still wants to believe his brother’s judgment – because he always has.  
  
Their relationship has never been perfectly equal, Sam knows. No matter how many times Dean tricked him and lied to him, Sam simply needs to trust him. There’s something inside him that still wants to believe what Dean told him again and again when they were growing up, never mind that reality frequently belied his words. _As long as I’m around, nothing bad can happen to you._ Dean, on the other hand, doesn’t trust Sam. Never has, not really.  
  
Sam appreciates that drinking demon blood and freeing Lucifer from his box hasn’t exactly been confidence-inspiring, and that walking around without a soul for a year and then having the devil nestle in his brain like a particularly vicious tumor didn’t do him any favors either.  
  
Still – he’s an adult and he’s tried so hard to atone for his mistakes. A bit of faith would be nice.  
  
But Dean refuses to grant him that. So while Sam actually trusts his brother’s judgment enough to give him extra time with Benny, Dean promptly goes behind Sam’s back and draws on Sam’s worst nightmares to make him lay off.  
  
*  
  
Once he sees through his brother’s callous machinations, there’s a bitter phone call and an even bitterer meet-up, and Sam no longer knows what to think.  
  
He never expected Dean to walk out on him like that.  
  
Sometimes, when things got too bad and he practically wanted to climb up the walls with unfulfilled desire, Sam would comfort and quiet himself with the knowledge that all he had to do was say a word – and Dean would drop everything, sweep him into a crushing embrace, kiss him deeply and pretend that he’d always wanted this too.  
  
Of course Sam was never going to do that, but it was nice to know that he could, the same way it was nice to know that Dean would always pick the bed closer to the door and open his beer bottles for him.  
  
Except that now he’s no longer sure he can. Because Dean’s suddenly redrawn the boundaries of his love for Sam – that is, he’s put boundaries in place for the first time at all, and Sam really doesn’t know how to deal with that but scratch and claw and hack at them.  
  
Back at the motel, he tries to keep their conversation to the real issue at hand – the fake text message, the single most cruel thing Dean’s ever done to him. But instead, he keeps on slipping back to Benny, and when Dean asks, “Okay, well, then, what the hell do we do now?” Sam answers, “That depends. It depends on you. On whether or not you’re done with him.” He couldn’t sound more like a jealous girlfriend if he tried.  
  
Dean looks at him as if he’s trying to memorize his face, and then he’s just gone. And Sam’s ultimatum goes up in flames like his dreams of happiness with Amelia – with Jess.  
  
*  
  
History repeats itself. Dean’s gone, Sam’s grieving for him, and Amelia drops by. Sam’s mind is a big blank slate and he fumbles for words, thoughts even, and when Amelia comes on to him, he just feels mute.  
  
Then she blames him for it.  
  
She’s wearing his shirt, after, and basically accuses him of forcing himself back into her life and dragging her back into his bed, and he’s pretty sure he’s done neither. He’s looking at her through a haze and that’s when he realizes – it’s not just his memories that are fuzzy. He really has no idea who Amelia even is.  
  
“We need to think about this,” he tells her carefully. Even for someone who has as little experience with relationships as he does, it’s obvious that her tentative plans of leaving her husband have nothing to do with him, not really. The prospect doesn’t exactly fill him with pure, exuberant joy. But he can’t push her away, not now. It’s not like he’s got much else to hang onto.  
  
Two desperate, lonely egotists. They kiss again.  
  
Maybe they’ve always been like that.  
  
*  
  
Before long, fate – in this case Cas – reunites him with his brother, who’s doing just great without him.  
  
While Sam was wracking his brains over Amelia’s advances, Dean stayed with Cas and Kevin, and probably as soon as he’s helped Cas free Alfie, he’ll rejoin Benny. He really doesn’t need Sam.  
  
He’s looking good, and angry, and only better for being angry, and Sam suddenly becomes aware of the fact he’s still wearing the same shirt he had on when they started out for Benny. The shirt Amelia was wearing after last night.  
  
He doesn’t get it. Why Amelia tried to blame last night on him. Why Dean’s now blaming their fight on him, as though Sam was the one who gave his brother a heart attack on purpose and not vice versa. Probably Sam’s simply got a sick attraction to people who’re older than him and love to make him feel bad.  
  
However, it only takes killing a couple of demons and Cas falling off the wagon to melt away Dean’s anger and Sam’s bitterness. The sensation of Dean stabbing a demon who’s latched himself onto Sam’s back is infinitely more real and intimate than the night he spent with Amelia. It’s everything he lives for, and he can see in Dean’s gleaming eyes that he feels the same.  
  
Once they get back to the cabin, Dean claps him lightly on the shoulder. “You go and get the first shower,” he offers generously. “Seriously, man, you stink of sex and sweat, it’s disgusting.”  
  
Sam can’t keep from smiling as he complies.  
  
*  
  
Occasionally, Dean has these moments where he’s ready to hand Sam the moon and the stars on a silver platter, never mind the cost to himself, and right now’s one of them. “Don’t you have a girl to get back to?” It’s a sincere question.  
  
Ever since she stood in front of him that morning, wearing his shirt, reflecting his own self-absorbed stupidity back at him, Sam knew he wouldn’t go back to Amelia. Dean, however, seriously seems to think that Sam wants to. And he’s ready to let him go. Why – because he already chose Benny?  
  
Walking around Rufus’s cabin, ostensibly to clear his head for the decision he’s already made, Sam catches sight of Dean on the phone through one of the windows. His brother’s face is heartbreaking. His mouth forms the words _End of the line_. _Adios_.  
  
The breath catches in Sam’s throat and he hastily glances away.  
  
So Dean’s ended things with Benny, not even knowing if Sam will stay with him. And when he finds out that Sam’s staying, he’ll think they’ve both made their sacrifices and all is fine.  
  
Except nothing is fine.  
  
Because Sam knows, instinctively, that what his brother gave up was something quite different than his Days of Our Lives cameo. That fake text message was just the desperate, crazy sort of thing they’d usually do for each other, fuck the rest of the world. Sam would never have done something like that to Dean, but he’d have done it for him. Not for anyone else. And Dean did it for Benny. Fuck him.  
  
Why does Dean always insist on making the bigger sacrifices? And how can he expect Sam to live with that?  
  
The sadness and frustration must still show on his face later on when he tells Dean he’s staying. Dean mistakes one sadness for another, and reacts with subdued relief.  
  
He switches on a boxing match, trying for normality. Sam responds in kind and makes them dinner. Dean opens his beer for him. Seamless Winchester reciprocity, old as dirt and almost as irksome. Together they sit on the small couch in the cabin. Briefly, they look at each other and nod, almost like strangers.  
  
 _Why do we keep doing this to each other_ , Sam asks himself, tucking into his meal. Of course, it’s a rhetorical question and a stupid one at that. He knows why, how could he not? He can only hope Dean’s also found some sort of answer for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and happy Christmas.


End file.
